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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898463">The Raven and The Wolf</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkerbee/pseuds/checkerbee'>checkerbee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Revhound Gods AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Ambiguous Relationships, Blood and Violence, Bloodhound Just Wants A Friend, Canon Non-Binary Character, Explicit Sexual Content, No Gender Headcanons Here, Other, Pre-Canon, Revenant Is Not A Good Friend, Touch-Starved Bloodhound (Apex Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:02:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkerbee/pseuds/checkerbee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the bird and the beast, there is a them. </p><p>They call themselves Bloodhound, although there is no one to hear them do so. They have no wings to fly, but when they fall the ground does not hurt and when they hunt, they do so with the teeth of a predator.</p><p>(A parallel to Timeless from Hound's POV)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/Original Male Character(s), Bloodhound/Revenant (Apex Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Revhound Gods AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Raven and The Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before there is a them, there is a bird. It soars through the heavens on inky black wings and it does not want. It hunts the land for rodents, the seas for fish and the skies for another like them. Time is a fickle thing when one is carried by the caress of the wind, when the sun warms their feathers and guides them to rest at night. </p><p>How many times do they watch the sun rise? They do not know. There is a yearning, a need for more, but of what they have yet to find. So they fly and watch the land form around them, watch as two-legged creatures wander. They like these creatures because they are messy, leaving behind plenty of food when they hunt. And one day, there is a voice, lilting through the air toward them, beckoning. </p><p>They do not understand what the sounds mean and they mimic them back, fluttering away when they spot teeth. The creature that calls them is strange but it offers food that does not need to be ripped from carcasses by beasts with bloody snouts, so they accept. The two-leg likes to keep them close, crooning words at them when they are fed. They grow comfortable and the need for something more settles, disappearing as if it never existed. </p><p>Still, they fly whenever they are not closed within the shelter of stone that the creature sleeps in. They enjoy the freedom and the flash of teeth when they return to their companion that makes their heart race. It is like when the breasts growl, but there is no danger, only the strange sounds that they learn to imitate after a while. The most common sound is "blud" and they mimic it back, chest puffing in pleasure when the creature flashes their teeth. They like the sound, singing it through the air when they fly and listening to it echo off of the ground below them. </p><p>Soon there is another, a beast that also gets fed but when it bares its teeth, they know that it means harm. Their companion keeps it tied outside at night and they can hear it howling, even when they tuck their head under their wing. The creature calls it "hond," so they do too, but they do not like the way it watches them. They give it space, sharing meals only after it has eaten it's fill and is laying dead-still on the floor. </p><p>Eventually the talking creature lets the beast sleep inside and they watch it, ready to fly even when their companion strokes their feathers. They cannot warn them that the beast is a predator, that those sharp teeth can kill. So they keep their vigil at night and leave to rest during the day until they are called back.</p><p>Except, one day there is no call. They return to the shelter but their companion is not there. The beast is still tied and it tries to follow them when they take flight, claws scrambling against the ground. They leave it, searching instead for their companion as the sky changes to blood-light and then to darkness. When the sun returns, they look again, repeating the cycle until they begin to forget the scenery and they know that they must return to home. </p><p>The beast is dead-still by the time they make it back, dropping a long-eared rodent by its snout. It stirs, then tears into the food with abandon, snarling when they get too close until eventually it calms. They bring it food back every time they leave, but they know that it must hunt before it dies. Just as they love to fly, the beast loves to run. They try pecking at the ties when the beast grows too tired to move, but not even its sharp teeth had failed to free it when it tried, so how can they?</p><p>For the first time there is a thought. </p><p>They want to help the beast, to free it, but they are not like their lost companion. So they bring food until the beast lets them rest against its side, voice calling the strange sounds that the creature had taught them. Eventually they begin to blend together, a name to go with the thought as the beast grows more and more tired with each passing day. </p><p>"Bludhond." They croon one morning, nudging fur and the beast growls. They ignore it, keep nudging until teeth catch on the feathers of their wings and there is pain. Dying eyes meet theirs before letting them go, its snout dropping back to the dirt and they scramble away, attempting to fly. They fall and try again. And again, broken wings failing under their weight as the beast watches.</p><p>There is a want, a yearning for more as they return to its side, resting against it as it grows still. There is a thought, that they are more, that they cannot end here.</p><p>But they will, bloody feathers finding comfort in the fading warmth of the beast's fur.</p><p>…</p><p>After the bird and the beast, there is a them. They call themselves Bloodhound, although there is no one to hear them do so. They have no wings to fly, but when they fall the ground does not hurt and when they hunt, they do so with the teeth of a predator. There are no others like them even though they look like the two-legged creatures that wander the earth. When they speak, they see fear, like they had held when teeth were bared from behind a snarling muzzle.</p><p>So they watch and they learn, hunting when they are hungry and practicing the sounds that the humans make until they become words. Behind the words are meanings but the only creatures to share them with are the black birds that follow them like shadows. Perhaps it is so they can feast on the remnants of their hunts or because the ravens feel a kinship to a being that once shared the same form. Regardless of the reason, Hound tells them the stories that they hear from the humans, the sounds with meanings that they learn until talking becomes something natural to them.</p><p>Time passes while they learn with a hunger that is insatiable. They starve for knowledge, for understanding until even that does not satisfy them. And then there is another, a bird that mimics like they had, talons alighting on their outstretched arm and feathers fluffing when they stroke its chest with careful gentleness. It does not fear them like the humans do, delighting in their voice that is both bird song and growl. </p><p>Hound enjoys the company of their new companion, training it to help them on their hunts, to return home. But time does not stand still, even for something that they care for. The raven ages while they stay the same, unchanging and preparing for its loss. And when the time comes, they bring life back into it, watching as it flies with wings that cannot be broken and energy that will never wane. It's feathers cut like black glass, glistening in the light of the sun. It is their creation, their companion and they long for another. </p><p>They pick a man with golden hair next, because in all their days of watching they do not see a family by his side. It is a simple thing to convince the elders that his sacrifice will appease a wrath that they do not plan to bring, a shiver running through them as he dies laughing on an altar of stone. No, the elders need not fear them, but their dying screams as the newborn god rips them apart is something else altogether. They interfere when their companion moves onto others, because that anger is truly meant for them and for the first time, they feel guilt. </p><p>It drives them away, keeps them at a distance as they watch the other god grow into his own through the eyes of their ravens until he is kneeling at their feet with shadows eating his flesh and a flame where his heart should be. </p><p>When Hound takes those shadows into their fingertips, they take the pain of them as well, the scars that trace black over their skin like the silk threads of a spider's web. This is their penance, their apology for the life that they have taken without the other god ever knowing that they have done so. That anger does not fade though, they can see it seething under the surface like a feral thing while they teach their companion to control his darker side and they long to appease it, to feel it cut into the heart of them. </p><p>The other god listens to their stories of the warrior people they have found to the north and although they can read the disinterest in his expression, they revel in having someone to talk to enough that they ignore it. He does not see the humans the way that they do, does not find anything notable about them. Not like they had, learning from them like a child learns from its parents. He's forgotten what it's like to be something less than what they have made him and it shows all the more clearly when they finally follow him to the places that he goes when he leaves them.</p><p>So they invite him to a duel, let him challenge them until the beast within them longs to sink its teeth into sun-tanned skin. They use the axe instead, the blade of it pressed against the other god's throat as strong fingers threaten to end them. He would, if he knew the truth, would despise them for something other than the weakness that he thinks they hold. They tell him that they are not docile, remind him that they are his beginning, but do not share that they were his end. They bite the words back, hold him close when he tries to pull away and drink in the sight of him. </p><p>What would hatred look like in those clear blue eyes? They do not know, do not ever want to know, so they let him slip away before their secrets are laid bare.</p><p>"Would you like to hunt with me?" They ask when he turns away, hoping that they can keep him for a little bit longer. </p><p>A hand is offered and they take it. </p><p>…</p><p>He leaves them again after the hunt and they go back to their people, find comfort in a warrior that cannot hurt them even if he were to try. He is one of the vikings that they watch over, learning their language and listening to their myths until an accent lilts against their tongue. He is strong, just as much of a hunter as they are but also kind, longing for a family that they cannot give him. Still, he welcomes them into his bed when they visit, hands gentle when the movement of his hips is not and they ache. </p><p>They want so badly to love him, to love the feelings of his fingers on their skin, the way that he feels inside of them, but they cannot. He is not unbreaking despite his strength, he is not one of the gods that his people worship and they cannot bring themselves to give him the same fate that their wandering companion carries.</p><p>The guilt is gone, but the lesson remains. </p><p>So they give the warrior their time and their pleasure until he begins to question their lack of age, until their red hair starts to contrast with his threaded silver. He takes a wife when they do not come back and they feel a longing when he smiles at the way her fiery hair catches the light of the sun. The two have a child a year later, then another, a family growing that they watch over generations. </p><p>They bury the longing and move on, leaving the vikings in favor of a place that does not fill them with a feeling that they'd rather not have. It is during this time that the other god finds them, sitting across from them in a Parisian cafe and stealing the tea that they had left to grow cold. Hound had been aware of his presence even before he chose to show himself, hearing the whispers of murder from the people that their ravens watch. </p><p>They don't look up from their book at first, choosing to finish the page that they're reading instead. It's something that they have been meaning to read for quite some time, but now it seems to fit more than ever. <em> All beings so far have created something beyond themselves. </em>And for them, that creation is sitting across from them, the only other creature that is like them, that could one day surpass them. A god so much like themselves, yet so different. He does not have their patience, their passion for things beyond his own desires nor their faith in the humans that he thinks so lowly of. Yet there is a fire there that pulls them closer. Like a moth.</p><p>The other god shifts in their periphery and they mark their place with a finger, dark eyes meeting cold blue. They call him litli djöfull, question his presence and laugh at the way he smiles like something dangerous. </p><p>"Little devil?" He asks, curious and they do not know how to express the yearning within them, tapping the hardbound surface of the book as they consider how to respond. </p><p>"I have been thinking of a name for you." They do not want to name him as if he is their child, but rather they want something to call him, something that will tie them to him. The mark of a maker. "I never gave you one."</p><p>"I can pick my own," He challenges, then softer after a pause. "Revenir." </p><p>And they want to question it, but they cannot. His will is his own, something that they won't take from him like they did his life. But they can't go back to their reading either, unable to focus now that they have been interrupted. Why 'coming back?' Why name himself after what they have done to him, instead of something more akin to his nature? He is a deadly thing, a creature that enjoys ending a life just as much as they enjoy the hunt leading up to it. They've seen that bloodlust in his eyes, in the satisfied smile that graces his face when there is blood on his fingers. </p><p>It's not there now though, replaced by a calm expression and they wonder what occupies his mind in such a way. </p><p>"I can hear you thinking." They say, pulling his attention back to them. </p><p>"Have you ever fucked them, one of the humans?" The question makes them blink, mind going blank for a moment because they do not expect it, not in such an abrupt way. Still, they tell him of their viking but not of his family or the need that it has created within them. When he asks of love, they rebuke the thought because love is not something that they have ever felt. Pride, guilt, pain, but not love. </p><p>When he mentions a woman, they do not feel jealousy, but they do feel relief when he tells them that he does not want her. </p><p>"Then why do you speak of her?" But they know why, even before he responds. </p><p>"Because she thought I was in love with another." They do not feel love, but they know what it's like to ache, to need something more than what they have. So when he offers more, a challenge in those cold eyes, who are they to deny him? </p><p>…</p><p>The other god is not a gentle lover and they do not expect him to be. He holds them just barely too tight, lets them take control until he grows tired of the pace that they're setting. He guides them in their pleasure while his eyes take in every inch of their skin, watching but not worshipping. </p><p>They fuck like equals, like creatures that know that they can kill each other if they so choose and it's that thought that stills them when their teeth are in his throat. They could end him, just as they did before, but on an entirely different altar this time. </p><p>And then his hand tightens in their hair, pain clearing their head of the thrill of the hunt that suddenly fills their veins. Their eyes glow with it when they release him, the beast at the heart of them clawing for something primal, something to sate the need within them. He takes that need away instead of satisfying it, takes them apart and puts them back together in a way that leaves them feeling raw and exposed. When they beg, it is a foreign thing, something they are unaware that they are doing until he grants them release. </p><p>Afterwards, they watch marks grace their skin for the first time in their long, long life and the beast within them makes a content sound. They press for more though, until he kisses them and they chase it, that unknown feeling returning. It stays as they press a hand to their lips, blood in their mouth, and follows them into their sleep.</p><p>They do not expect the other god to be beside them when they open their eyes, so it is a pleasant surprise to see golden hair gracing their pillows once light begins to filter through the curtains of their room. Their companion is much softer when he sleeps, none of the anger that he tries to hide from them coiling through his muscles. </p><p>Taking a moment to study the bruises on their skin in the morning light, they tread soft fingers over the marks with a frown. Truth be told, they did not expect the other god to be able to leave such things on their skin and it shocks them just as much as when his sword had cut through their skin what seems like a lifetime ago. </p><p>There is an ache running through their body as well and while they don't consider themselves a sexual being, it isn't unwanted. Rolling from the bed, they stretch out their muscles and sigh before finding clothes to wear for the day. This, Hound hates, hates the social confines of how they're supposed to dress if not the restrictions of the clothes themselves. They cast aside half of the garments they do find, instead choosing to wear a riding habit and breeches directly over their camisole. It leaves them with a distinct lack of artificial curves that they find comforting and when they turn to grab a brush for their hair, they find blue eyes studying them with interest. </p><p>"You're dressed." Is all Revenant says after a moment and they pause, curious. </p><p>"Should I not be?"</p><p>"Is that decision up to me?" He asks in return and they shake their head before beginning the task of untangling their hair. </p><p>They enjoy having it long, but the thickness of it knots easier and becomes difficult to manage quicker than they prefer. Still, it's something to busy themselves with that is not the god laying naked in their bed. Eventually he gets up, judging by the shuffle of fabric behind them and then there are hands gracing their shoulders, strong fingers stroking over their throat. They lean into the touch, know that if they press too far that the other god will retreat. </p><p>It is not cowardice that keeps him from letting them close, they know this and yet that distance stings in its own way. Hound had spent an immeasurable amount of time by themself before they had breathed life back into a sacrificial lamb on a crude altar of stone and that isolation had never truly faded despite the shadow that returned to them on a whim. Perhaps it is because they know that he does not care for them. Or maybe it is a symptom of a time spent too long on this earth. Regardless of which, they push it to the side and focus on the other god's touch, on the flicker of shadows that caress their skin. </p><p>"Do you feel better?" </p><p>His hands freeze, the ministrations that had started to lull them into a comfortable state ceasing. It is jarring, the way the absence of his touch leaves their skin cold. "I did not come to you for pity."</p><p>"And I am not offering you any. Would you have given me your time if you hadn't wanted something from me?" </p><p>His reflection smiles at them and it is not kind. "You know the answer to that."</p><p>There is a kiss pressed to their scalp and then he is gone, a lonely ember floating through the air as the only evidence that he had ever been there in the first place. From atop the bookshelf, their first raven trills at them, talons clacking on cherry wood and they answer the sound with a tilt of their head. They hold out their arm and press their fingers into black feathers, stroking the bird' s chest in comfort and it chases their fingers in the same way they had chased the other god's touch. </p><p>The thought gives them pause, makes them curl their free hand into a fist. They are not a pet, not something lesser, and they wonder when they started acting as such.</p><p>"My creation has surpassed me." They tell the bird and its answer is a low one, mournful in its song. </p><p>…</p><p>The earth is no longer a place for them to hunt, the humans that they admire so dearly choking it of its life with infinite slowness. They don't notice it at first, the signs that Hound observes over time, only looking for a solution when it is too late. They spend three hundred years in Iceland, where their viking's people have flourished and watch the beauty of their home fade. </p><p>That ever present ache is back, that longing, but this time it is for a chance to go back. To be able to see the world from the vantage point of a black winged bird or through the prowling eyes of the beast that is so intertwined with them that they forget where the raven ends and the wolf begins. They are a duality inside the body of one creature, always watching yet yearning to be two so that they can combat the loneliness within them. </p><p>They do not want a family or a lover, but a return to what they once were before it all. </p><p>It is something they cannot have though, dark eyes following the circling of their ravens above the hungry waves of the ocean. Behind them is the crunch of gravel, another joining them in their vigil and they know who it is before he speaks. </p><p>"It will be the two of us soon." Revenant says and they wonder if he despises that fact, if that is what brings distraction to his voice. They don't pull their eyes away from the birds above. </p><p>"It is good to see you again, litli djöfull." </p><p>"I'd believe that if you looked at me." He responds, so they do, dark eyes finding blue as the ocean winds send their hair flying loosely about their face. They are not cold, but they hug themselves tighter. Perhaps to keep themselves from reaching out to the warmth inside of him or to hold themselves together, they do not know. </p><p>He scans their expression, looking for something, but they have nothing to show him. They have taken, they have given, they are equal. "Do you mourn them?"</p><p>"No." And it is honesty, because they hold more faith in the humans than he ever will. They had watched them grow from beasts, had been their companion before becoming what they are. They understand their resilience, their strength while accepting that they are more. A blessing for him, but something that often feels like a curse in their heart. "They will find a way."</p><p>He scoffs, but he does not leave them. No, he stays as the humans eventually find a way to reach the stars, to fly higher than even Hound had ever managed to. There is pride in the heart of them, but it is quickly overcome by fondness when they tell him that they are going with the descendents of the man that they could not love and he chooses to follow. He is like a shadow, always behind them as they leave the Core systems behind and in a moment of weakness, they beckon him closer, give him a way to sate his bloodlust during the long journey in a way that doesn't end in death. </p><p>He does not push them away afterwards and they take a moment to rest against him just as they had the wolf, his side warm and arm heavy on their shoulder. </p><p>"Is this what you wanted?" He asks, mimicking their words from the first time they had been together and it stings, that disregard. </p><p>"No," They pause, think over their words. "I used to be more. Áður, there was a bird that cared for a beast until it died, but in doing so, the bird got too close. The beast, in its pain, made it so that the bird shared its fate."</p><p>"Am I the beast?" He asks and they do not know how to tell him that he is the two-legged creature that made the bird and beast docile in the first place. He may have come after, may be something of their own making, but he has sentenced them to a life of fading just as the human had done to them in the beginning. </p><p>They do not answer and he does not press, a light touch brushing their hair for the briefest of moments. A kiss or just an accident, they do not want to know. </p><p>…</p><p>The vikings settle on Talos and they join them. There are stories of them passed among their lover's descendents and their presence is not questioned. Two children are what's left of him after so many generations, a boy and a girl. The girl marries, works with her husband on the drills that are taking energy from the planet's core to fuel a war that Hound does not care about. The brother chooses a different life, one closer to that of his ancestors and they offer him wisdom every now and then. Sometimes it is tips on how to hunt the creatures of their new home and others it is myths of their people that even the humans have forgotten. He listens with scepticism and perhaps he would think them mad if not for the whispered stories that his parents and their parents had shared as bedtime stories. </p><p>"Brigida and Johann had a child, Blóðhundur." He tells them one day in the summer and they give him their axe as a gift for the little one. </p><p>"Give it to them when they prove themselves worthy of it." They say, watching as he studies the red energy fade from its blade at the loss of their touch. They click their tongue and he holds his arm out on instinct when one of their ravens flies to him. It is the first, the undying, it's head tilting as it watches them. "He will watch over you as well." </p><p>"Why give gifts now?" Artur asks and Hound smiles, canines flashing. </p><p>"I won't be around for them like I was for you and your ancestors." They can see the curiosity in his eyes, knows that he wants to question them just like his ancestor had so many centuries ago. They leave him to it though, meeting with the shadow that waits for them at the edge of the forest instead. They tell Revenant of the child and his eyes track to where their axe no longer hangs from their belt. </p><p>They distract him from the thought, bring him to the ground with quick feet and he rolls them, presses them into the fallen leaves and dirt. "You're planning something."</p><p>They smile, ignoring the thing that he does not want to admit to himself even though they can see it in his eyes. Bringing their arms between them, they push him back until he gets to his knees. </p><p>"Stand," They tell him, getting to their feet as he looks up at them. Not in wonder, not in worship, not in wanting. "Fight me and do not hold back." </p><p>His answering smile is a dark, hungry thing. "When have I ever held back?" </p><p>Always, they think viciously as he tries to sweep their legs from under them before he stands and they kick him in the chest, sending him back to the ground. "Stand." </p><p>He growls and gets up quickly. He must sense something different, because the lazy confidence that he normally holds himself with is gone. No, he's tense and focused entirely on them. So they feign to the side, making a move to punch him and kicking out his feet when he gets distracted by their fist. He falls to the ground again and there is anger in his eyes now, making their heart skip in their chest. </p><p>"You think me weak, sýndu mér." It's a command, for him to do better, for him to prove that they can leave him. He is a predator, but not even the best can hunt alone. Stepping back, they let him get up this time, dodging the fist that he aims at their side. He does not use his scimitar and they bare their teeth to remind him that they are not weaponless. They lash out and there are shadows where his body once was, a shift in the air to the side. Dropping, they force the air from his lungs when they turn and slam the heel of their hand into his chest. He gasps, blue eyes going wide before he kicks into the back of their knee, forcing it to buckle. </p><p>"Do better." They snarl and taste blood when he hits them. He lets them stand though, does not take advantage of their kneeling position and that is his first mistake. He still treats them as beneath him when they are so much more, toying with his food until he is hungry enough to eat. They punish him for it, leave him bloody and winded on the ground. </p><p>And then there is a hand around their waist, pulling them down into a kiss that tastes like metal. They make a sound, pull away, but his hands are in their hair, holding them close. </p><p>"Hold on for one fucking second." He snarls against their mouth, diving back in for a kiss that is deeper this time. It leaves them swaying where they kneel, a hand on his shoulder to keep themselves steady, and he takes advantage of it. The blade of the scimitar cuts into their side and the sound that it drags from their throat is nothing short of a howl. They push him away, scramble to their feet in the leaves and he chuckles. </p><p>"Is that what you wanted?"</p><p>They see red. </p><p>It reflects in their eyes, that all encompassing anger that he so often feels and it burns. Like fire, like fury, like lava in their veins. To him, they are only noteworthy when the beast in their chest manages to slip out, when it bares its fangs. They shake with it, fingers trembling as they unleash it on him until they're both on the ground, his fingers intertwined with theirs so that they can't rake bloody scars through his skin. </p><p>"All I wanted was a companion." They snarl, incensed and they can feel him swallow against their fangs. "And you could not give me that." </p><p>"It's not in my nature." He tells them and they know. They know but that doesn't make the awful feeling that has been haunting them for so long go away. That doesn't stop the ache at the heart of them or make their limited time less painful. They make a sound like a dying thing, head bowing to his chest, and he does not hold them. He offers no comfort, even when they need it most.</p><p>"I…" He pauses, searching for something to say to the mix of anger and grief that is inside of them. But he finds nothing, a hand coming up to card through their hair instead. It is uncharacteristically gentle, insultingly so, but they can't bring themselves to pull away from him. Not now. </p><p>He gives them two years of his company instead of words that he doesn't mean, more accustomed to showing himself in his actions rather than pretty phrases. Two years of conversation and touches that are warm enough to burn, of sparring sessions where he finally challenges them completely. He does not hold back and they revel in it, in the blood on their skin and the dirt under their nails and the feeling of being alive while utterly exhausted. It sings within them like birdsong and makes it that much harder when they leave him sleeping in their home. </p><p>The journey to the drill site isn't a long one, but they must make a detour first. They find the goliath hunting for food not too far from their home and slay it with one of their first raven's feathers, the glass-like sharpness of it cutting easily into the hulking beast's throat. It crashes to the ground at their feet, blood flooding over their shoes as it twitches in its death and they whisper a prayer for its sacrifice into the dead morning air of the forest. They thank it, breath life back into it and watch its skin knit back together under their touch. </p><p>They have never raised something so large before, a wave of exhaustion making their vision blur before they blink it away, leaning on it for a moment. The jotun huffs, chest rumbling with a growl as it stumbles back to its feet and their heart races. </p><p>"I have a job for you." Hound tells the creature, putting distance between them, feral yellow eyes locking onto their own black. They turn and run, they sound of trees crashing and the feel of the ground shaking letting them know that it follows closely behind. When they clear the treeline, it chases, erupting into the area surrounding the drill with a primal sound and they can see workers scrambling for the weapons that they keep to fend off wildlife. They lead it further, climbing over the chain link security fence with quick feet and then deeper, toward the facility. </p><p>They use a keycard that they had swiped from Brigida's house months ago, pushing the doors open. Humans scramble around them, away from the giant that shrugs off their fire as if it is nothing and then there is a voice cutting over the alarms that are beginning to sound. </p><p>"Blóðhundur!" They turn, watch as Johann attempts to get to them, confusion and panic warring for dominance on his face. The jotun crashes into the wall beside them, claws scrambling against the ground and they have no time. They have set everything into motion and have no choice but to see it through. </p><p>He must see it in their eyes because his own widen, tracking quickly to the open steel doors behind them. Somewhere in there is Brigida, descendent of their viking and mother of a child that bears their name. The goliath gains its feet and they turn, palm slamming against the control for the doors and sealing it outside. They do not find Brigida, do not stop on their way to the main coolant pump that chills the lava within the planet's surface. There are other exits chained throughout the facility and they hope that she and the other humans find them, fingers flipping over the switch that keeps the coolant system sealed away. </p><p>It groans open, the cooling rods rising from the body of the reactor with a hiss of frigid smoke. Using the raven's feather to cut the support cables, they send the rods plummeting back into the structure. They repeat the process with the next reactor and the third, a whole new set of alarms beginning to blare as everything destabilizes. And the entire structure shudders. It's small at first, like a slumbering beast stirring, then stronger. Somewhere below them, a pipeline ruptures, the air being forced from their lungs with the rapid drop in temperature that comes with it. </p><p>There is a sound like the ocean, like a roar of an ancient thing and not far from them ice breaks through the wall like a bone through skin. Shards of it shred through metal and concrete, eating everything its path. </p><p>The world erupts around them and they smile. </p><p>…</p><p>They are cold. </p><p>The air is frozen, snowflakes forming from their breaths until their lungs are empty and burning from that emptiness. Above them, through tons of ice and steel and concrete, they can hear the humans attempting to salvage something from the destruction that they have caused, but even that fades after a while. Their eyes cannot open, maybe because there is no room for them to or because they are frozen shut. It allows them to drift, to pretend that they are sleeping as they stretch their mind out to their ravens. </p><p>They are circling, waiting for something although they do not know what and it is freeing, to be able to soar through the heavens again. They watch as the land reforms, as the humans adapt to their new enviroment, as a child grows under the watchful eye of a man with dark red hair. They are a young curious thing, quick to frustration and stubborn, but they learn just as quickly as they get angry, picking up the lessons on survival that their uncle teaches them with a brightness that is admirable. </p><p>There is another too, a man with hair like spun gold that looks up at them in the sky and does not smile like the humans do. No, he watches them just as they watch him, searching for something that they can no longer give him. </p><p>Drifting down lower, they settle on one of the branches above him and call out, catching his attention when he starts to turn away. </p><p>"What do you want?" He asks, chuckling to himself when they only tilt their head at him. "They're gone. You don't have to watch me anymore." </p><p>They do not recognize the emotion in his voice, have never heard it from him before and they sing a single curious note at him. His hands ball into fists at his sides. </p><p>"The kid is growing." He tells them and they know, they have seen. "And I'm here, wondering why I haven't left, why I'm talking to some stupid bird in a forest. It's not like you can understand me and they can't hear me wherever they are." He laughs, a painful sound. "I know where they are, but I can't get them back. I used to think about it, about losing them but it was always some abstract thing." </p><p>He trails off, catches himself before sentimentality can stain his words and they flutter their wings. When he next speaks, his words are bitter, like ashes."You should find a new home instead of hanging around here. They're not gonna come back." </p><p>They do not follow him when he returns to their old home, giving him space instead. Over the years, the child grows into their own. They wear goggles to protect their eyes from the reflection of the snow and keep their hair trimmed to something that is barely long enough to braid, covering their head with a cap when they go out into the forest to hunt. </p><p>"Artur told me about you." Blóðhundur says one day and they startle, the opaque tint of the goggles observing them on their branch. "He has a raven just like you. He told me that one of the Æsir gave it to him. I don't believe him." </p><p>They puff their chest out and trill, watch as the child laughs. "Artur is skrýtinn but he is all I have. So if you can, ask Aldaföðr to watch over him." </p><p>They do not expect the request, nor the carefree way it is asked from them. It is not a formal plea like one would bring before a god, but a favor asked of childlike innocence. They trill again, head dipping and Blóðhundur must take it as agreement because they wave in farewell and slip away to where Artur is calling their name. </p><p>Hound does not speak to them again, not in the remaining years before their trial. They watch as the child follows the tracks of a prowler through the blanket of the snow, watch as they stumble upon its carcass and freeze in surprise, falling down an embankment. Their axe slips from their hand and they pick it up quickly. For protection, for comfort. </p><p>One of the entrances of the drilling facility yawns before them, awashed in a red glow of emergency lights and they follow the child inside, out of sight and soft like a shadow. They watch as Blóðhundur finds a lantern, blue light illuminating the tunnels where the red can't reach and then further, a gun. </p><p>"I, Blóðhundur, will slatra." They say when they pick up the weapon and giggle to themselves, carefree until something moves in the dark behind them. The lantern is raised as a roar cuts through the silence of the tunnels and it is the goliath, the beast that Hound had set as a test for them a decade ago. The child drops the lantern with a crash and turns, running just as they had done when the beast chased them. An axe is thrown, but it misses, the gun falling from their grasp as they stumble into the open air. </p><p>They scramble for it in the dirt, grab hold and fire once the energy inside it charges fully. Before them, the jotun falls, one of its horns landing beside it. </p><p>Hound flutters their wings and watches as the child shouts their victory, the call of their first raven interrupting their lonely celebration. They have not passed, but the god is not disappointed. </p><p>It will take more than a human's gun to kill one of their creations.</p><p>…</p><p>The child returns later that day and there is grief in their steps, anger in the way they hold themselves. They have lost something they hold dear and Hound aches for them, an empathy for the pain that they know is in the child's heart. Still it is that anger and grief that guides them to where the goliath rests. It charges through the tunnels after them and they strike out, not at it but at the beams supporting the rubble above them.</p><p>The god watches as they turn, perhaps thinking it trapped, but behind them is only the empty shaft of an elevator. Then a raven, drifting down to greet them, to guide them. The god settles on one of the cooling pipes and calls to them. Again, when they do not get the child's attention and opaque goggles catch their eyes as they flair their wings. </p><p><em>Here, strike here young one</em>, they will as the beast breaks free. There is no time for hesitation, no time for doubt. </p><p>With a shout, the axe bites into the pipe and coolant floods the tunnel. The jotun freezes as the child stumbles, reaching for a mask while the beast reaches for them. Scars like black wisps of shadow bleed over their skin as they freeze and Hound will not let them end here. They leave the raven and find the child instead, give them strength to reach further. </p><p>To breathe. To stand. </p><p>They stumble to their feet and they are not weak, they are not lesser, but something so much more than they ever were. </p><p>When they raise their axe, it glows red.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh boy, writing this was a doozy. I hope you liked it. Or at least didn't think it was too crazy. </p><p>Our favorite gods will be returning in a third installment, but until then, thank you so much for reading. </p><p>Comments and Kudos, as always, are appreciated. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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